


It Starts with A Sweet

by Mirrorshot (CalWeirdy)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Author definitely needs jesus, Belly Kink, Drift needs therapy and also probably jesus, Other, Self Service, Stuffing, Weight Gain, chubby robots, involving stuffed tanks pressing on interface arrays, oh boy, overfeeding, overloads from overfeeding, pillow humping, self overload, that probably only im into, the robot equivalent of button popping, there's also some weird stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 00:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11566200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalWeirdy/pseuds/Mirrorshot
Summary: Drift has denied himself fuel for so long that he has no idea what feeling full is like. He overdoes it just once, and addiction kicks in.Or:Drift eats too much, gets chubby, and gets off on it.





	It Starts with A Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a straight hour to think of a title and this one is mediocre at best. Ah well. My working tile of "Drift and His Addictive Personality Walk Into a Bar" was too long. This is basically a warmup fic before I go back to writing Hurry Up And Weight. Hope y'all enjoy.
> 
> I'm just sticking a blanket warning for eating disorders and disordered eating on this fic.

Drift had never been used to having such an abundance of fuel around before. Between regular rations, Swerve’s, and the dispenser in his unit, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

For his entire life, even during his time in the Circle of Light, he hadn’t been able to consume as much as he truly wanted to. Everything had to be carefully rationed. Everything was calculated down to the last drop; anything more was considered greed and excess.

His first few weeks on the Lost Light had him adhering to the same discipline. Old habits were hard to break, after all. He wasn’t going to take what he didn’t need. He was going to keep himself fed well enough to function, but not a tick mark more. It was his way of setting an example to the crew as third command. He was not putting any undue stress on the energon reserves for the ship and taking up as little space and resources as possible. It was a win-win situation for everyone.

But right now, he was faced with a dilemma.

He blamed the energon candies for his current situation. They had been a gift from one of the many mechs aboard the ship trying to get under his plating, and he had avoided eating them for so long. So long, that they were about to expire.

Candies weren’t something that Drift needed to survive. They were a luxury that he couldn’t afford. But if Drift knew one thing, it was that you don’t waste food. Ever. And he couldn’t exactly pawn the box off to someone else. He could hurt the feelings of the mech who had given it to him.

No, Drift was going to have to just finish them off.

He was staring at them, cross legged on his berth. He had been having a staring contest with the large, glossy black box for at least ten kliks now and couldn’t sum up the courage to actually open it up. Eventually, though, Drift couldn’t ignore the crawling anxiety of wasting food and he dug his fingers under the lid to flip it open.

The candies inside were all nestled in little tissue cups. Drift stared down into the open box, alarmed at the sheer _number_ of them. At least twenty, glowing softly and in a dizzying array of colors from the usual energon pink to an electric blue. Drift inhaled deeply through his vents and tried to figure out the best direction of attack.

That left him sitting for another few klicks before he gave up and just picked up a random candy between his fingers. It was soft and orange, and appeared to have some sort of liquid center. He squished it a few times, watching it flaten and spring back to form each time. Then, he took a cautious bite, covering his mouth to chew. It was tart, but not unpleasantly so, and incredibly sweet. It was the sweetness that seemed to trigger something inside of Drift. A little zing of pleasure whipped through his systems and he felt himself shudder.  
Drift was used to plain energon. It had been all he had consumed for most of his life, save for a couple of treats he had managed to steal or buy. ‘Sweet’ was a rare indulgence that Drift could hardly remember. Decepticons didn’t exactly consider them important rations, and after that he had no reason to consume them.

He glanced around, like he would have been caught in his own habsuite with the door locked. Then he popped the rest of the candy into his mouth. As soon as he bit down, the liquid center of the candy burst and rushed over his tongue. His optics brightened in delight as concentrated flavor lit up his neural net.

The candy was good More than good. It was absolutely delicious.

As soon as Drift swallowed, he actually rumbled in surprise when his tanks jumped up by nearly 10 percent. Candy was highly concentrated fuel, he remembered. Which was partially why it had been so expensive before the war. It was hard to distill and concentrate energon into a jelly. Drift actually almost felt guilty as he picked up a soft green candy with the same liquid center. Almost.

Because making sure that these candies were consumed before they went bad wasn’t wasting fuel. It was doing the opposite. Aside from that, they were a gift, so it would be pretty rude to accept and then allow them to spoil… right?

That was what Drift told himself at least as he ate the second candy. Then a third. And a fourth… And a fifth. It was only when his HUD had pinged him to let him know that he had topped 100 percent on his tanks that he actually paused. 104 blinked slowly at him once he pulled up the notification. Alarmed, Drift ran a basic diagnostic to make sure that he hadn’t hurt himself in some way. When it came back with nothing amiss, he realized it was just an alert from his system to let him know he was topped off.

He had seen mechs in the Dead end consume much more than 100 percent when they somehow came across enough energon to do so. It was a way to hold fuel without having to carry it around and risk it being stolen. It was safe, and not a big deal, to pick up the next candy.

Besides, he was just pleasantly fueled. There wasn't any pain anywhere, and he wasn’t even halfway finished with the candies.

It was around 125 percent that Drift started to have issues. His armor felt tight around his belly, and while he wasn’t feeling _sick_ , he was definitely feeling _full_. The box was a little over half empty and Drift was sure that if he let it sit longer the candies would surely go bad. Especially after he had opened up the box and broken whatever seal was keeping them fresh.

He groaned softly to himself, looking at the door _just_ to be sure that it was still locked. The little red light that signified so was still glowing, and he was off shift. There was no way that someone was going to catch him, so even if he got _too_ full, he would be able to sleep it off if he had to.

With determination, Drift adjusted how he was sitting so that he would be more comfortable. Soft pillows went behind his back so he could lean against the wall, legs spread in front of him. That was better. It put less pressure on his tanks and allowed him to lounge a little while he continued his feast.

His plating creaked at 150 percent.

Drift wasn’t even sure he had heard it, but as he brought a blue, crunchy sweet to his lips he heard it again. His plating let out the softest of sounds as it bent and bowed out, unable to contain his distended tanks. Drift looked down at himself and while the curve was slight, it was definitely there. His belly had rounded out from the sheer amount of fuel. Drift could feel it; his armor was uncomfortably tight. Though that had been relieved enough by his armor warping to accommodate his belly that he felt like he could continue.

Without really thinking about it, one hand went to his middle and he gave his belly a little press. There wasn’t usually give to any part of him. Metal armor did that to a mech. But at the moment, because it has stretched out, there was actually a little bit of softness to his middle that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He swallowed the blue sweet, and his tanks jumped ever so slightly to 159 percent. Drift could have sworn he actually _felt_ his tanks expand by just a fraction.

Maybe it was his imagination. Even so, Drift was absolutely fascinated despite the tightness he felt in his belly.

Besides, it almost felt nice to be full of fuel for once. He had spent his entire life starving, and having more than enough energon in his tanks was causing a pleasant warmth to settle across his frame. It was like being submerged in an oil bath, or maybe like being under a thick blanket.

Drift would have to meditate on this later. For now, he popped another candy into his mouth. There were only a few left; he could definitely finish off the box without any issue.

\---

In retrospect, 20 candies was an awful lot.

Drift actually felt sedated. His belly was heavy and weighing him down as he slumped against the wall in his habsuite.What had been a slight warping of his plating had become a very apparent curve to his tanks. He had one hand on his belly, stroking over it to try in vain to relieve some of the tightness there. What little room that his frame had made by bending his armor was lost on how full he was.  
It was almost like being on some sort of drug. Drift’s processor was pleasantly hazy and he felt halfway to recharge already; a far cry from his usual insomnia that was only cured by a forced recharge after too many restless hours. His limbs were impossibly heavy, like someone had strapped lead weights to his wrists and ankles. All he wanted to do was lay down and digest. Nothing could make him move at the moment. He was relaxed for the first time in a long time outside of meditation and it was _amazing_.

Blearily, Drift checked his tank level. He had capped out at 215 percent. If he hadn’t been feeling so sluggish, he would have been shocked. But at the moment, all he could feel was a content pulse of accomplishment. Usually it took hours to get himself this calm, he mused as he rubbed over his distended belly. He had to admit the discovery was as dangerous as it was _intriguing_.

It wouldn’t do for him to gorge himself on fuel just to feel a little relaxed. That sort of waste was uncalled for, even now that they weren’t exactly wanting for rations. There was a bar aboard the ship for Primus sakes! But, as he drifted off into recharge, he thought it might be a nice way to treat himself every now and again... 

\---

As it turned out, Drift had a tendency to treat himself way more often than he thought. It was probably the addict in him. He loved anything that made himself forget his troubles, and stuffing his tanks full of fuel was a good - no, great - way to do it. He hadn’t indulged quite as much as his first time, but there was a considerable uptick in his intake.

It was more that he talked himself into consuming fuel than anything. He had gotten into the habit to order another drink at Swerve’s. Nothing intoxicating; Just a couple large cubes of energon. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as his candies, but he would always leave with his tanks sitting comfortably at around 125, pressing up against his armor and making him feel that soothing heaviness in his frame.

That bit of pressure was like a hug that helped him get through his day. It wasn’t quite enough to warp his plating either, so no one was the wiser. Drift found himself calmer. Happier, even. So long as he was able to keep his tanks full - or overfull, rather - Drift felt like he could handle anything that the Lost Light Crew threw at him as their third in command.

A deca-cycle went by like this. Drift just spent the day sipping continuously on energon to keep himself floating between 125 to 140 percent. Just enough to keep that feeling of fullness but not enough to actually show it to others on the ship.

The tightness in his armor began to come easier and easier to obtain. When it started to happen around 120 instead of 125, Drift just chalked it up to good luck, and his body getting used to being so full.

But then his armor creaked in the middle of Swerve’s.

It was a noisy night, and no one was paying attention. As Drift worked on his second cube, he heard it - the faintest of groans from his stomach plating.

He stopped sipping at his fuel and glanced around to make sure that no one had heard him. Everyone was more invested in the rowdy conversation that was happening around him; there was no way that the little creak had been heard. It was concerning, though. Drift brought up his HUD and checked his tanks. He was only at 133 percent! That wasn’t nearly enough to put pressure on his armor to warp it!

But after looking down at himself, he discovered that there was the _slightest_ curve to his belly.

That was problematic. Highly problematic.

He doubted that any of the other mechs would actually notice. Especially now that the conversation had devolved into some sort of drinking game involving whether or not someone had engaged in certain sex acts. But Drift was more concerned with what would happen if he actually finished his cube. He had just started on it, and it was a large one. The size was meant for bigger mechs like Ultra Magnus.

Swerve hadn’t even blinked when he first started asking for them, voice barely above a whisper. Swerve had just set the cube in front of Drift with what appeared to be a wink - it was so hard to tell with the visor. Drift had been getting that size ever since.

Drift wasn’t one to waste fuel in _any_ situation. That was what had caused this entire ordeal in the first place. Even now, with the potential to be embarrassed in front of a room of drunken mechs, Drift felt that anxiety itching up under his plates just thinking about it. He would just have to finish up his cube and hope that his plating wouldn’t warp too much while he did. Drift didn’t want to invite questions by walking out of Swerve’s with a distended belly.

Like it would make some sort of difference, Drift sipped slowly at the cube. He didn’t down them quickly on a normal day, but he figured that he would be able to track his progress easier if he wasn't slamming down several servings of energon at once.

He double checked himself when the cube was half empty. His tanks were around 150. Sure enough, his belly had become more pronounced. Drift slid a hand down to rub over his armor, pressing gently on the bump like he could hide it somehow if he pressed hard enough. That sent a confusing series of sensations through his processors, so he quickly stopped.

Drift sighed softly through his vents and he looked around again. Nobody had noticed him. Then again, he was sort of hunched over, so he was hiding his frame from view. That gave him a little more courage as he swirled the cube in his hand.  
For a moment, he entertained the idea that he should see Ratchet. It wasn’t normal to constantly keep himself above capacity for his tanks, and it looked like it was causing some sort of adverse reaction. Then he realized he would have to explain the why, and the how, and the idea left his head faster than it had popped up. He wasn’t about to deal with a lecture, or worse, judgment from the Chief Medical Officer. No way. He didn’t even know if he was having an adverse reaction.

He finished his cube without issue. On the last swallow, his tanks read 174. A little higher than usual, but nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t even need to look down at himself to know that his armor was _straining_ to contain his tanks. He could feel it, and it almost felt as tight as the first time that he had eaten the candies.

That thought sent a worrying zing of _excitement_ down his struts.

Ignoring it, Drift figured he could sit in the bar and digest a little. But then Swerve started down the bar and he knew that he would be asked if he wanted another drink. It’d be too awkward to sit at the bar alone without anything in his hands.

No. He had to get up and walk out.

With a casual air that Drift himself didn’t feel like he possessed, he flipt his cube over onto the bar and transferred the shanix to cover his tab. After a thought, he added a generous tip before turning to leave. At the moment, most of the bar was enraptured by a particularly raunchy story being told by one of the ex-soldiers, so Drift was able to escape without notice.

\---

After Drift’s non-incident at the bar, he tended to refuel on his own.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed, but as he noticed that it took less and less fuel to press his plating out, he didn’t want to be attracting attention. Not that anyone seemed to pay any attention to it anyway. Most mechs didn’t like to make optic contact with him. Those that did didn’t comment if they noticed. In fact, the most he had gotten was Rodimus flicking his optics up and down his frame, pausing briefly over the little bulge of a belly that was now a permanent fixture on his frame.

Drift had discovered that his plating was permanently warped after he let his tanks run down to zero in a failed attempt to fix whatever problem he had caused with his body. This was brought on by the fact that his belly had started to stick out at 125 as much as it had at 150 and he was worried that he had broken himself somehow by using his tanks so hard and so much lately.

To his dismay, he had stayed bloated up even after reaching zero. His body had been permanently changed. Being hungry hadn’t done anything for his mood either. During his fast, Drift found himself snipping at anyone who annoyed him even the slightest. He didn’t like feeling so grumpy about the anxious grinding of his empty tanks. After all, he had starved for most of his life; he was used to the empty nagging of an underfed frame! But it seemed that after finally having enough fuel - more than enough - he could no longer stand the sensation of hunger.

After a stressful day, Drift had stuffed himself back up to nearly 200 percent and the resulting lazy satisfaction was enough to convince him that his new habit was there to stay. If his frame decided that it was going to display the results of his gluttony, he would just have to live with it. Drift had given up on trying to fix the problem. He wasn’t going to ever go back to scrimping and saving every bit of fuel that he came across. He’d refuel whenever, and however, much he wanted to.

The change was immediate. Once Drift was back to keeping himself full, his mood improved considerably. There was a peace about him as he worked, moreso than usual. He well and truly addicted to being stuffed with energon.

So much, in fact, that he actually ordered himself a box of candies to recreate his first experience.

Drift sat with the box much like he had the first, cross-legged and leaning against the wall. Even though he knew the door was locked, he was still feeling that prickling anxiety that he would be found out. He had double and tripled checked the lock on his door to make sure that he wouldn’t be disturbed. Drift had planned for this. He had the entire cycle off.

After the incident at Swerve’s bar, Drift had started to take stock of his frame. It wasn’t just his belly that was growing. The armor around his thighs and arms had started to become tight too. Not quite to the extent of his belly, but it was still noticeable if he took the time to think about it. It seemed his entire frame was growing. He had heard of this phenomena in organics, but never in mechs.

Then again, he had never heard of mechs who routinely consumed over their tanks’ specified limit of fuel. Fuel had been too much of a precious resource to “waste” like that.

It didn’t bother Drift at all. In fact, when he found himself alone, or in the quiet of the command deck where no one paid attention, he tended to gently poke and prod at himself. It was… nice. Soft. The polar opposite of the dangerous and lethal mech that he had been throughout the war. After all, when was the last time that someone with rounded edges was considered intimidating?

He was utterly fascinated with the changes to his frame. Though he had refrained from filling himself up as much as he had the first time for fear of hurting himself, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly how far he could take it.

Recently, as he brought himself to 140, he could see gaps in his plating that revealed the gray, mesh protoform underneath.

The change in size wasn’t the only thing that was different. Drift had found that as he _expanded_ \- for lack of a better word - his frame was becoming more sensitive. He had noticed it while settling in for recharge a few nights back. The drag of the blanket against his frame had felt exquisite, especially against his growing belly. He explored it more thoroughly later, feeling out the sensory nodes along his body. Sure enough, they had been more sensitized around his middle where the bulk of his growth was.

The only thing he could think of was as his body stored energon, it pushed the sensors in his frame closer to the surface of his protoform. Though that was just theory. Drift had no true way to test it unless he consulted a medic.

Now, as Drift sat on his berth with another box of candies, he wondered if eventually his protoform would show permanently through the straining panels of his armor. The thought excited him, even though he felt a twinge of shame from that excitement. He had already noticed some discomfort when he sat and the soft, jelly-like padding pooched forward. There was sometimes even a subtle creak from his armor when he stretched or sat. Maybe it was the addict in him that loved the results of being constantly full of energon. There was more pleasure in it than he’d care to admit, and pleasure was addicting.

Currently, he was at 105 percent, the lowest he had allowed himself to get for a long time. By his calculations, the box of 20 candies was more than enough to get him well over 200 percent. He figured he could just keep going until he got some sort of warning from his systems. Or until he physically couldn’t eat anymore.

With this in mind, Drift got comfortable with his back to the wall and a pillow behind him. After a thought, he also put one under him just for some added support. He crossed his legs and leaned over to grab a datapad off his berth-side table, shivering a little as the motion compressed the soft layer of stored energon around his middle and caused the newly sensitized nodes under his armor to light up.

He still wasn’t used to this. His frame had never been this sensitive. If he didn’t have so much self control, he would be running hot at all hours.

He tried not to think about how a lack of self control had gotten him there in the first place.

Datapad in hand, he used his other to pop the lid off the candle and settled in, powering up the pad to find some sort of holovid to watch. Or maybe a game. The Lost Light had an interesting selection of entertainment and he picked something at random. He wasn’t going to be paying much attention anyway. A little smile crossed his lips and he wet them with his glossa in anticipation before popping one of the candies into his mouth.

For the next cycle, Drift entertained himself with videos and games on the datapad. He ate mindlessly, not really paying attention to how many candies he was consuming. He didn’t bother checking his tanks until he felt his armor strain and split to reveal his protoform. It was about halfway through the candies, and Drift gasped softly when he finally felt the seams give away. It wasn’t painful at all. In fact, it felt amazing to have the pressure taken off his swollen tanks, even if it was just a fraction. Just thinking about how much bigger he looked sent a little zip of pleasure down his struts and straight to his array, and he bit his lip. Inhaling through his vents, he mustered up the courage to look down at himself.

Even though he could see objectively that his tanks were sitting at 219, he wasn’t actually prepared for how _big_ that made him look. Protoform squeezed out between his armor, glowing softly from the energon in his tanks. His belly was incredibly round despite the way it was being squeezed by the metal plating around it. There was no frame of reference for Drift on what he looked like, except that he felt he looked wonderfully soft.

Harmless.

Drift bit down harder on his lip as he reached out and ran a hand over his belly. He was so tempted to remove his armor completely to relieve some of the discomfort there. Right now he felt like he was in some sort of vice. But he didn’t dare do it. It wasn’t the worst feeling, and the thought of leaving his frame vulnerable without armor made him very anxious.

So instead, he sucked in some cool air through his vents, frame feeling warm as it routed power to digesting his meal. The heavy drowsiness that Drift had come to love so much was starting to settle over him like a warm blanket.

He was only halfway finished with his candies at this point, and he was already this big. Drift gave the soft mesh poking out between his plating a little squeeze, then rubbed across it. It felt so warm, and his protoform was so sensitive that his charge was starting to ramp up. A low, pulsing arousal started up in his array and Drift sighed. He squirmed to get comfortable again, sitting lower on his bert, pillows sliding with him. With one hand resting on his belly, he picked up another piece of candy. He had set out to finish this fuel, and he would.

It was harder now, especially when it felt like there wasn’t any more room in his tanks. Even swallowing the one candy made it feel like something was going to break. His armor was much too tight now. There was no pain, though. Just the intense pressure of being squeezed into a too small space. No warnings were appearing on his HUD, so Drift assumed he was safe to keep going.

Drift focused on the number glowing softly on his HUD. Oftentimes, during meditation, Drift would find a center point and return to that whenever his mind wandered. This was no different.

A curious thing happened when he hit 235. There was an instant and alarming release around his tanks, accompanied by a loud metallic _ping_ as the stressed and bent armor around Drift’s middle finally gave up. It popped off and went flying across the room with such force that it hit the opposite wall.

As if it had a mind of its own, Drift’s belly surged forward to fill the space that had just second before been protected by his armor. The release did nothing to help Drift’s charge. Just the relief of that suffocating tightness was enough to leave him gasping, a hard pulse of pleasure causing his valve to cycle down on nothing.

After Drift got over that initial shock, he took stock of his frame. He was huge. His belly touched his thighs and was perfectly round. Even better yet, now that he didn’t have anything in the way of his tanks, he felt like he could consume a lot more.

Without really thinking about it, Drift rubbed over the dome of his tanks, feeling the softness of his stretched protoform under his fingers and concentrating his attention on the sensitive clusters of nodes under the mesh layer. He massaged them, rubbing in little circles. Charge crackled across his frame and he felt his mouth fall open as he let out a low moan. Before long his fans kicked on, trying in vain to cool his quickly heating frame.

He ate another candy, taking his time to savor the taste.

It was probably odd. Being turned on by overfueling wasn’t something that Drift had any experience with. It made sense, in a strange sort of way. Drift’s frame was more sensitive because of the added weight. That in turn was causing him become easily revved up. Which in turn made the fueling process attractive outside the pleasant fullness he had come to enjoy so much.

It was taboo as the pit, and as Drift ate another candy, he figured there were worse vices to have.

Besides, he could keep telling himself he wasn’t too far gone as long as he didn’t open his panel to self service.

Though as he swallowed the next few candies, a problem presented itself. As the number climbed higher passed 250 percent, Drift felt _something_ pressing against the top of his interface array. From the inside of his body.

He had a sneaking suspicion what it was.

Experimentally, Drift wiggled his hips. As he did, something rubbed up against his recessed spike and valve walls. _That_ had his fans going from a soft whir to full speed, skipping every setting in-between. With both hands, he pressed on his distended belly. Sure enough, he was able to feel the added sensation on his array. Weird, but Drift was panting through his vents anyway. Moisture was building up behind his panel and he glanced at the door just in case. Still locked.

Drift shifted forward, sitting on his legs instead of against the wall. He grabbed another candy and ate it quickly, wanting to see if he could get his tanks to stretch even more to get more stimulation on his array. Sure enough, his sensor net registered the intensified pleasure and he felt his engines kick up in a low purr. His cooling fans couldn’t keep up with the spike to his core temperature, but they tried anyway. He was already so warm from processing all the fuel that with the added heat, he felt like he was _burning._

A little whimper bubbled up from Drift’s vocalizer. While stuffing himself full of fuel had felt good, this was a development he couldn’t have ever predicted. He should have been concerned, but all Drift could feel was _excited._

Drift enjoyed interface as a whole. Overloading was amazing. He hadn’t had much luck aboard the Lost Light as far as partners went. No one really trusted him and therefore, no one wanted him in their berth. Usually, if his charge got too high, he would simply let it dissipate since self service didn’t satisfy him

Lately, he realized, he had been letting his charge go away on its own a lot more often.

This, though? Drift pressed on his belly again and mewled in delight. He was only able to truly stimulate the top of his spike and valve like this, but it still felt amazing.

Fluid seeped through his panel onto the pillow below him. If Drift rocked his hips just right, he could feel the drag against his sensitive inner nodes. His pillow was going to be soaked by the time he was done, he knew it. That thought just got his engine revving sharply, and he snagged up another candy to shove into his mouth. This time, he let it melt on his tongue so he could savor the sensation. While he offlined his optics to enjoy the taste, he worked out a rhythm with his hips, twisting and squirming to build his charge further.

Soon, the room was filled with the soft creak of Drift’s berth as he moved and the heated whine of his fans. In order to keep the stimulation on his spike, Drift had to keep dismissing his system’s requests to open his panel. He knew that the moment his spike pressurized that he wouldn’t be able to rub his tanks against it.

However, his body had a different idea, and as he swallowed the sweet syrup of the melted candy in his mouth and he hit 275 percent, his spike cover snapped open by itself.

His spike pressurized so fast that it almost hurt, and the action ripped a gasp from Drift’s vents. Like his armor before, as soon as his spike was out of the way, his tanks quickly filled the space to push harder on his valve. Drift slapped a hand over his mouth to quiet the groan that left him, the sound laced with static.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, warning bells were going off. This was dangerous. It felt too good. Better than any self servicing he had done before. He was completely overcharged, almost drunk because he was so full. There were little sparks dancing across his plating as he panted through his vents.

Desperately, he ground down onto the pillow below him, trying to get more sensation. It wasn’t quite enough, and Drift let out a groan of dissatisfaction before glancing over at the head of his berth. There were a couple more pillows there. If he could put another one between his legs and have something just a little more solid to rut against.

Without a second thought, Drift reached over and grabbed one of his other pillows, shoving it down between his legs to join the first. Shifting his weight forward, he nearly cried in relief as he felt his spike enveloped by the soft fabric. That little bit of extra stimulation was the final thing to crumble his self control. His valve panel snapped open and immediately Drift felt the built up fluids soak the pillow. He moaned, head falling forward.

Once he was sure that the pillows were securely in place and wouldn’t move too much, he started to rock his hips.

It was awkward at first. Drift didn’t have too much experience pleasuring himself like this. But after a few tries, he managed to get a good rhythm going. His belly moved with him, heavy and full. Each forward thrust compressed it just enough to send little shocks up his spinal struts.

Drift took to rubbing over the exposed mesh while he worked his hips, sighing as he clung to the pillows with his thighs to keep them in place. The wet fabric dragged over his external node and spike, stimulating the neglected outer rim of his valve whenever he broke up his pace to grind down onto the pillow.

Moving too fast proved to be impossible. It caused the excessive fuel in his tanks to slosh and churn. Somehow, that only made Drift hotter and he soothed over his belly in smooth strokes in time with his hips. To get a better angle, Drift arched his back, tilting his array so he could better rut against the soaked pillow.. He was pressing down hard enough that his spike was completely enveloped, and the fabric was clinging and catching just right against the raised ridges.

Drift bit down on his lip hard enough to draw energon, feeling little pops of excess charge hop across his frame as he neared his overload. The feeling of the firm give below him had his mind racing. For just a moment - just a split second - he imagined what it would be like if his frame became as soft as the pillows below him. Fingers dug into the layer of jellied fuel that had started to form around his middle, and the firm, overfull tanks underneath that. He tried to picture it. Being soft and harmless as he desperately chased overload. Feeling stuffed and heavy and warm forever, and never having to worry about being hungry again.

Forgetting what hungry was like.

It was that final thought that had Drift careening into overload. The room flashed blinding white, then burst into static as energy crackled over his frame. Somewhere in the distance, Drift heard someone let out a high pitched cry, and only afterwards did he realize that it was him. He was only vaguely aware of the feeling of his spike releasing into the sheets below him, and his valve tightening and cycling down on nothing.

As he rode out the waves of overload, he collapsed forward, bucking against his berth and the pillows, dragging out the sensation for as long as he could. The added pressure of his entire frame on his belly when he fell against the mattress sent him straight into a second, less intense release of charge that had him whining and whimpering into his hand.

Drift slumped once he was spent, ignoring the sticky mess below him as his fans whirred loudly at their maximum speed, his frame clicking and cooling. It didn’t take long for him to be unable to stand laying in his own mess, and with some effort he rolled onto his back. Drift smoothed his hand over the dome of his belly, looking down at himself with a sort of awe. He squeezed just a bit, and hissed softly as he felt an almost painful wave of arousal. That would be something to explore more later. Right now, he was pretty sure that he would only hurt himself if he tried for another round.

For the time being, Drift just looked over at the few candies that he had left.

The overload had burned off a considerable amount of fuel. His tanks had lowered to just below 230. Drift pushed a candy passed his lips and savored the flavor as he chewed and swallowed. A feeling of smug satisfaction filled him as he watched the little number on his HUD jump by a few points.

This was dangerous. This was definitely dangerous. But Drift was an addict, and he wasn’t about to bring himself to a stop any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post in a long time, so thank you for everyone who read it! I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing after a long and hectic year of doing literally zero words a day every single day. This was something I was able to write out and edit in about a week and a half, so I'm hoping that HUAW's next chapter will take about as long.
> 
> Also this was edited ONCE, so if there are any glaring mistakes, feel free to let me know.
> 
> Y'all are beautiful.


End file.
